


Dogs of War

by RomeoandAntoinette



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Banter, Budding Love, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Lovesickness, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26011315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RomeoandAntoinette/pseuds/RomeoandAntoinette
Summary: [Post MGS1] Solid Snake knows the name of each and every one of his huskies. To Snake's surprise, this amazes Otacon. The reason why surprises him even more. [MGS Summer Games 2020] [Snake/Otacon]
Relationships: Otacon/Solid Snake
Kudos: 46
Collections: Metal Gear Solid - Summer Games -2020





	Dogs of War

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also an entry for the MGS Summer Games! This challenge is inspired by F3, which was to write a fic based on the word "Dogs." 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the route I chose. ;)
> 
> RomeoandAntoinette | F3 | Team Philanthropy | 20 points.
> 
> Enjoy!

“What’s that one’s name?”

“That’s Scout.”

“And that one? With the spot on its forehead?”

“That’s North Star, of course.”

“And what about—"

“I don’t know why you’re bothering to quiz me,” Snake laughed. He let the heavy bag of kibble roll off his shoulder and onto the ground, where the force was enough to create a dust cloud. It was yet another reminder that he needed to sweep the shed’s floor.

Otacon, who was only a few steps behind him, gently set the other back of supplies down on the floor. Their trip to the hardware store had yielded a decently fruitful haul of tools and supplies, and best of all, his dogs’ favorite food had been in stock. The duo had ended up going on such a shopping spree that he was worried the snowmobile would break down under the weight.

Thankfully, they’d made it back and were able to unload everything in complete peace.

Well, almost complete.

“Sorry,” Otacon offered sheepishly. “I’m just amazed! I mean, you can tell all your dogs apart so easily!”

“Of course,” Snake said with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be able to? It’s not like they’re…clones or anything.”

The comment hung in the air awkwardly for a seconds before Otacon stepped in and saved the conversation. “That’s not what I meant. Dave, most people don’t have fifty huskies.”

The comment didn’t land.

“ _Fifty!_ ” Otacon reiterated, his voice pitched in reverence. “I mean, jeez, Dave. That’s a lot. You have to know that, right? Fifty dogs of the same breed must be challenging to keep track of.”

Finally, Snake seemed to understand the point Otacon was trying to make. He cracked his back after carrying the heavy back of food and turned to face his partner more directly. “Well, if I’d just adopted fifty dogs at one time, I guess you’d be right. Some mushers do that.”

“And you don’t?”

The brunet shook his head. “No. I adopt dogs one at a time. I like to bring them in, see if they’re compatible with the others. I like to see if they’re compatible with me too. Dogs are individuals, just like any other living thing. Just like some people don’t jive, it’s the same way with animals.”

The scientist tapped his chin in thought. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Besides, I always give my dogs individual names based on their personalities,” he said. “That helps commit them to memory even more.”

Okay, that was cute. Otacon tried to bite back a smirk but failed.

“That’s really sweet, Dave,” Otacon offered honestly. “Man, not only are you great with people, but you’re good with animals too! Talk about a perfect guy.”

The compliment was perfectly timed just as Snake was digging through their bags for something to clean up the floor. Just when he'd found a broom, his flustered state caused him to let it clatter onto the floor.

“Woah, wait a minute,” Snake said, slowly leaning the broom against the wall before turning back to Otacon. “You think I’m _great with people_? The guy that intentionally lives out in solitude in Alaska? The guy that would rather race dogs than sit in a warm bar? Me?”

In Snake’s mind, there were actual boulders more extroverted than him. In fact, if NASA showed up on his doorstep and asked him to be the first man to live alone on Mars as a trial run, he'd seriously consider accepting the responsibility. His biggest regret would be having to leave behind his dogs...and maybe one or two people.

“Well, yeah, I do,” Otacon said. “I can prove it to you if you'd like.”

The older man blinked, slow and reptilian, in the engineer’s direction. He couldn’t recall another point in history where he was so intrigued about someone’ else’s perception of him. Nonetheless, here they were.

Otacon could sense his partner’s confusion and, without needing to be asked, elaborated on his point. “I mean, think about it. People wouldn’t keep calling you back for missions if you weren’t reliable and capable of making split-second judgments. Thoughtless ‘killing machines’ aren’t exactly popular when it comes to handling delicate operations.”

“…Didn’t you literally engineer a killing machine?” Snake asked. Despite the truth of the statement, he kept his tone light as casual to avoid any accusatory tone that might injure Otacon’s fragile confidence.

As anticipated, Otacon huffed at him lightly but didn’t disagree.

“REX was a mobile TMD designed for warfare,” Otacon replied, voice dipping, “Not spec-ops.”

Snake didn’t follow.

“Thank about it! REX wouldn’t have been able to negotiate with living humans in hostage situations,” Otacon said, hand gesticulating wildly about his face as he spoke. It was a sign that the man was passionate about the topic of conversation. “Machines have to be programmed with tasks, but you had to make split-second decisions at every turn. There were multiple variables at play. People died unexpectedly. People lied to you! REX couldn’t account for anything beyond logic. REX wasn't programmed to hesitate or think critically. It wasn’t programmed to weigh the value of one human life against another. It didn't…know how to show mercy.”

Memories of Sniper Wolf’s gently smiling corpse, head exploded above the eyes, brimmed to the surface.

It was Snake’s turn to derail the conversation’s negative spin. “Well, all that makes sense. Humans and machines are different after all. Even the best robotics aren’t advanced enough yet to convincingly duplicate the human brain. VR and AI are still concepts being studied. We haven’t figured out how to transcribe id, ego, and superego into binary. At least, not yet.”

A beat of silence lured a long sigh from his lungs. “I don’t know…at the end of the day, I don’t think I’m different from a lot of other soldiers. Especially ones that have been exposed to the battlefield before.”

Otacon's owlish eyes kissed the ground. "Oh. David."

Snake's gaze wandered to Otacon's face, lingered for a precious moment, then leaped over his shoulder to stare beyond the shed's open door. When Otacon followed his parter's gaze and turned around, he saw the huskies frolicking about the snowdrifts without a care in the world, kicking up piles of powder as they played.

"I'm just another member of a larger pack," David continued, his fingers toying with the pocket of his jeans. The weight of the half-full Lucky Strikes carton in his pocket was tempting him. "A dog of war."

Otacon shook his head, sending snowflakes from their outdoor saunter scattering. “You're not a dog, David. You're human. You really love people. You really love life. Even when people hurt you like Dr. Hunter did, you don’t spite them, do you? You lied to her to protect her, even after what she did to you.”

Snake’s heart lurched. “You…heard about that?”

The engineer smiled back. “No. I guessed. But it just seemed like something a nice guy like you would do.”

The soldier suddenly felt defenseless, like a crustacean that had lost its tight, hard shell to a powerful ocean wave. His brain was left skittering, trying to get it's bearings after his identity had been so quickly uprooted.

“Hal…I don't know what to say.”

Sensing that he’d rendered the other man speechless, Otacon stepped over the bags between them and clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. The older man withheld a sigh, but couldn't resist leaning into the touch. Something about the simple, minimal contact left him yearning for more.

“Actually, I just thought of another thing REX couldn’t do,” Otacon whispered.

He shuddered, but not from the cold. Snake was convinced that Otacon had the gentlest voice in the world. His tone was so soothing that all his trepidation about being complimented seemed to melt away. The kind words snaked through his ear and sank their fangs into his brain, releasing a surge of what had to be some biological cocktail of dopamine, oxytocin, serotonin, and endorphins. 

Still partially drunk on his lovesick blood, Snake’s sky-colored eyes met Otacon's marine ones. "And what is that?"

Otacon's smile matched his voice.

“It couldn't look into the eyes of another being and give them a name."


End file.
